Redemption
by Liave Ekeli
Summary: [The Quick and The Dead] A young woman enters the town of Redemption to bury some old ghosts from her past, but in Redemption she meets and old flame that she thought had been extingushed long ago.


**Disclaimer: **I do not own the movie "The Quick & The Dead", nor do I own any of its characters. The only thing that belong to me in this story is River and Cort's last name.  
**Author's Notes: **A fic I wrote after inspiration of the movie "The Quick and The Dead". The writing/spelling errors are intentional and are used to depict an oral language/dialect. Whether or not it is used to good effect is up to every reader to decide. I hope you enjoy!

The sun is setting, and the stifling heat of the day is finally giving away to the cold of night, and I'm glad, because I've waited a long time for it. Riding through the desert in the mid-day heat is excruciating, and I would do much for a cold bath, to wash off sweat and dust. But ahead of me is still desert, all but one little patch of the horizon. There's a town up ahead, a town called Redemption, but if you enter there won't be much redemption for you unless you'll settle for following someone else's orders for the rest of your life. This town belongs to Herod.  
If Herod says you die, you die. And if he says you live, you live. But he ain't never said to let anyone live…Not that I know of anyway.

I've been in Redemption once in my life, but I was much younger then than I am now. A young girl, sixteen years old, on the run from everything she knew, running straight into the cold, harsh reality of the world.  
I swore I'd never go back, after what happened to me in Redemption, but here I am. I'm not sure yet, if I'll go into town, but there's a rumour goin' round that I'd like to check out for myself.

I came to Denver a week and a half ago, and in a bar there, amidst all the gold-diggin' fools I overheard something about a quick-draw tournament that would be goin' on up in Redemption. One of the guys mentioned that Herod had brought down a reverend by the name of Cort McQueen from his mission. Of course, that's short for saying Herod got his gunslingers to burn down the mission and tie the reverend up and bring him into Redemption, letting him see a fair amount of fists and knees on the way, but still… Cort McQueen is in Redemption.  
I knew Cort McQueen once, but back then, let me tell you, he was no reverend. He was a gunman as good as the rest of 'em. But even as a gunman he was a fine man, Cort McQueen. He was the kind of man… If I was the kind of woman who would find a husband, Cort was the kind of man I'd find. But I ain't that kind of woman, and Cort ain't that kind of man either, so there really ain't nothing more to say about that.  
But the reason I liked him, even back when he was a gunslinger, is that he'd never kill just for the fun of it. He'd duel and wound or kill anyone you put up against him, sure, but we all did that. But if you enter a duel you know that the outcome is gonna be one out of two; either you're quick or you're dead, and Cort McQueen never, to my knowledge, hurt a man who didn't enter the street at his own risk. McQueen isn't the same kind as Kid Herod, who only enters a duel so he can brag to everyone about how fast he is afterwards. McQueen is a gunman to the bone, handling guns is in his blood.

Thinking about it like that, it's hard to believe that he built a mission and became a priest, but I guess you shouldn't underestimate the power of regret, or the whish for true redemption. That's enough to make a man try anything, or even drive a man crazy. I don't know which of the two will happen to me eventually. Probably I'll end up a crazy, old hermit who lives out in the middle of nowhere, afraid of anyone who approaches her, paranoid to the extent of fleeing if she sees the glimmer of steel. A life where you need to be on constant watch can do that to you, and it's gonna do it real fast if you let it. That's why we do what we do, Cort and I. We are the kind of people who like livin' on the edge, where things are rough and you really gotta fight to survive. I can't explain why some people choose this life and others choose to live a safe life and have a spouse and a family…that's just the way it is. Being a gunslinger is instinct all the way. When you draw you can't think. If you think, you're dead. In that split second you let your instincts control you, you let your hand and your fingers do the job, not your brain. That's what separates people like Cort from people like Kid. Kid's got the reflexes, sure, and no one's gonna say that he doesn't draw fast, but he thinks to much. In the moment it takes Kid to think that he's gonna draw his gun, Cort's already drawn his and pulled the trigger. Cort McQueen's got the killer instinct, but by the looks of it he's given up using it. I never took Cort for the kind of man who would bother searching for salvation, but I guess he was that kind after all. But I know for sure I'm never goin' to be that kind of woman, I grew up too hard and fast for that. There is no salvation for people like me, in any form. We grow up hard and most of us die hard too.

The sun has disappeared from the horizon, and I've made up my mind. I'm going to Redemption. I want another look at Cort McQueen, and I wouldn't mind seeing if he's still got his drawing moves either. Besides, it might be good for me to settle the score with some old ghosts. I've been wanting to do that for a long time. Maybe destiny, if there is such a thing, has decided that now it's time.  
It get's dark real fast out here, and by the time I reach the town the light from the windows are the only light source available. There's a party goin' on, I think it's some kind of Mexican celebration, but I'm not sure. I'm not so good with that sort of thing. There hasn't been much reason for celebration in my life, and by the looks of it I don't think it's going to be much more now.

As I enter the bar, I can feel that there's something wrong. It's way to quiet for a bar on a night of celebration. Then I see the reason. Herod is seated to the left of the door, and in the middle of the floor there's a chair. On that chair is Cort McQueen with a noose around his neck and a balancing act in front of him, if he wants to prolong his life with a few seconds.  
I know this game. It's Herod's game, I've seen him play it many times with men he wants to have fun with. This is Herod's version of a cat and mouse game. He'll string you up on a chair and have some of his men lay a hangman's noose around your neck, then he'll have three shots to have you hanging. And, apparently, if he doesn't make it in three, he'll let you live, but I ain't never seen that happen before.

Cort McQueen is persistent though, more so than I thought he would be. Maybe he really has turned his life around. Refusing to participate in the tournament 'till he's wobbling noticeably, and his toes are the only things that keep him from meeting his maker. But then it happens, just as Herod has fired his last shot, and the whole bar is waiting to see Cort wiggle a few times and then be still for the rest of days, believe it or not, another woman stands up and fires three shots at the rope Cort is hanging from, sending him crashing to the floor, heaving for breath. Now, either this woman has got balls of solid steel, or she's just plain stupid. Doin' things like that doesn't go unpunished in Herod's town, and sure enough, before they know it, they're both signed up in the contest.

Saying that I felt sorry for Cort would be somewhat of an overstatement. A woman like me is not in the position to feel sorry for anyone; the cost of showing emotion in a world like this might be your life. But to extent where I felt something for Cort, it was pity. Chained outside in the street like a dog, with nothing to do but await his first duel. When I look at him now I can see that he really has changed. I think it's safe to say that Cort McQueen has grown up, since the last time I saw him, and to be frank with you that just makes me respect him even more. Cort McQueen was a person who had connections well enough for him to never grow up, connections well enough for him to be a jackass 'till the end of his days. But apparently he walked away from that, and for that I respect him.

As I walk outside, feeling the cold night air against my face, I spot him, sitting with his back against a dried-up fountain. He doesn't seem to recognise me as I walk up to him, which, when I think about it, is understandable. I must have changed quite a bit since the last time he saw me. It's been five years, and that's a long time around the places where people like Cort and me hang around.

- Hello, Cort.  
He looks up, and squints, if it's because of the darkness or the light coming from the houses on both side of the street I can't tell.  
- How the hell do you know my name, woman?  
Just listening to him makes me think that just maybe he hasn't changed that much, he still talks to women like they were inferior to him. That may be true for most other women, but not for me.  
- You don't recognise me, do you?  
- Why the hell should I?  
- If I didn't know better I'd say that you were no priest, Cort. And you weren't back when I knew you, but then I was nothing but a silly young girl myself.  
Now I see a light of revelation beginning to appear in his eyes, slowly the memories of years ago is descending on him.  
- Oh, so you turned into a gunslinger too, huh? Well, I suppose with what happened…  
I sit down next to him, and he doesn't flinch.  
- People like you and me are born rebels, Cort. It's in our blood. I didn't turn out a gunslinger because of what happened, but what happened triggered my transformation. It's also why I'm here… I have some ghosts from the past that needs burying. Why else would my name be on that list in there, next to yours?  
- So, you plan to kill him, then?  
I shake my head, and he looks at me, almost surprised.  
- This ain't a killing tournament, Cort. Don't you know the rules?  
- This ain't a killing tournament…yet. But Herod's gonna make it one, just as soon as he's up against someone he wants to be rid of.  
- Like you…?  
He shrugs, not seeming to mind the thought that much.  
- Maybe… So, what exactly are you planning to do to old Steele?  
A smile crosses my lips at the thought.  
- I plan to play Herod's game with him. Three shots…first I'm going to shoot his ball's off, one by one, then I'm going to do the same with his dick, and that's all I plan to do with him. But if he's still standing after that, then to hell with it, I'll put a bullet in his brain too…  
Cort is laughing. He might be a priest, but he's still got a gunslinger's sense of humour.  
He smiles when he meets my eyes with his own.  
- You've still got balls, River. And you'll still need 'em, goin' up against Steele. But I think he's soon going to find he's missing some key body parts…  
The last words almost disappear in another fit of laughter. Cort McQueen is still alike himself, that's for sure.

Now, you might wonder who this Steele fellow is, and why I plan to shoot his private parts off once I get the chance. Castor Steele is an old timer in Redemption, an expert on avoiding Herod and his guys, and he's got a hand in all the shady dealings you can think of. Whores, gambling, and every kind of liquor you can imagine swallowing it down with. And once, five years ago, when a sixteen-year-old girl on the run was seeking shelter in Redemption, he tried to make her one of his whores. He took her by force, leaving her battered, bleeding and screaming.

And since I'm the one carrying a grudge against him, you might have guessed that this girl was I.

I was innocent back then. I won't claim that anymore, but still… Castor Steele was the one who showed me what kind of ruthless place this world really is, and he was the one who made me realise that out in places like Redemption your guns and your brains are your best defence. He made a dangerous enemy back then, although he doesn't know it yet. But soon I'm gonna make him pay…

I'm about to get up and leave Cort to his own misery when he grabs me and pulls me back down. Now, this surprises me, since its just as rare for Cort to show any kind of emotion as it is for me, but I let him have his way.  
He kisses me. It's the passionate kiss of one whose life has always been on the edge, of one who knows that life may be over tomorrow.  
- What was that for?  
- I've wanted to do that ever since I first saw you, but you were too young and fragile then to handle the love of an outlaw like me. And now it might be my last chance, because we could both be dead tomorrow.  
As he speaks a roguish smile plays around his lips. Cort McQueen must have made one hell of a preacher, but now the outlaw is back in his eyes. I'm ashamed to admit that it takes so little for me to be captivated by him. But it was the same back when I was a young girl too, but then I could dismiss it as a childish infatuation. I can't do that anymore.  
But Cort has always been popular with women, to them there has to be something about the outlaw that seems intriguing. To me it's a sense of recognition, a sense of belonging, a sense of…safety. I can't explain what it is about Cort McQueen, but there's something about the way his eyes sparkle, the way that roguish smile plays around his lips. The way he knows life, the way he recognises my way of life.

I kiss him back, first letting my tongue caress the inside of his mouth. Then my lips move downwards on his neck, and I feel his breathing change into longer, deeper gasps. Our hands meet briefly in mid-air before each pair of hands finds the other's body. My hands find their way under his shirt and meet his chest. Our lips meet again, and I feel his hands travelling down my body, resting on my hips for a moment before beginning to tug at my clothes, fumbling with my belt buckle.  
- Someone's bound to see us out here…  
- No, they wont. It's late, and besides I don't really care…  
A grin is on his face again, as he lays me down on the ground, with only our coats to shield our bodies from dirt and stone. He kisses my neck and chest; letting his hands wander all over my body. I repay the favour, doing the same to him. There is no soft words exchanged, no exclamations of love. Love doesn't do you any good out here, so why bother with it… There are only our bodies, melting into one.

It was over too quick, but it couldn't have been any other way. In a perfect world Cort and I would have been soul mates, escaping from town and into a life of our own, far away from trouble. But the world we live in is far from perfect. This is Herod's town, and you can't skip out of Herod's town unnoticed if you first have entered. That could kill you, and so could skipping a duel you've signed yourself up for. But I don't care what happens to me tomorrow. I lead a life where only the moments count, and this night Cort gave me a moment that's gonna last a long time.


End file.
